Brothers in arms
by cein
Summary: Spoilers for Probie. Tony tries to help McGee get his confidence back, but things don't always go according to plan.Concluded.
1. Chapter 1

Title:Brothers in Arms part 1?  
Author: Ceindreadh Email: Website: n/a Permission to archive: Yes to WWOMB, anybody else, please ask first.  
Fandom(s): NCIS Genre (general, hetero or slash) Gen Pairing/Characters: Tony/Tim Rating: FRT 13 Summary: Tim needs to deal with the aftermath of Probie Warnings: spoilers for Probie Disclaimer. I don't own the NCIS characters, I'm only borrowing them, and I promise to return them in minty fresh condition when I'm finished.  
Notes: Thanks to FatCat for her title suggestions. Also thanks to Lynda and MJM from the specialops chats for advice regarding guns and guns handling (even if I didn't use as much of it as I thought I would)

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"I'll handle it, Boss"

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The sound of his landline ringing roused Tim from his bed in the early hours of a Saturday morning. Not that he had been sleeping...lying awake and staring at the ceiling had been all the rest he had gotten in the last few hours. Every night in the last week, he had fallen asleep only to wake from dreams of the shooting. Every night he replayed the scene in his mind, hoping that just this once he could make a difference...that maybe this would be the time when he managed to hold off on firing until he had assessed the situation properly. But it never happened, and Tim knew that even if he could change it in his dreams, it wouldn't change the reality of the situation. He had killed a man. 

It didn't matter that Abby hadn't been able to tell for sure whether his had been the fatal bullet or not, he had still fired at somebody who hadn't deserved to be shot, and even if his bullet had passed harmlessly passed the guy, it still didn't change the fact that he had pulled the trigger with the intention of hitting his target. 

It was that as much as anything that kept Tim awake after his nightmares. He knew that his work was being affected, as much by his disrupted sleep patterns as the guilt that was eating away at him. It was only a matter of time before Gibbs gave him his walking papers. He had seen Gibbs coming towards his desk, a look of thunder on his face, and if it hadn't been for Tony needing to speak to him about a cold case, Tim was sure that it would have been his last day as an agent.

But by the time Gibbs had come back from looking at the new evidence Tony had shown him, it was nearly time to finish work and he hadn't said anything. But Tim knew that by Monday he'd surely be clearing out his desk. 

The landline had stopped ringing by now, and Tim buried his head in the pillow. But the silence was broken a few seconds later by the sound of his mobile. 

Pulling the phone into his line of vision, Tim groaned as he saw Tony's name come up. He knew he could just let it go to the answering machine, but Tony was the persistent type and Tim knew from experience that he'd just keep calling and calling until he got through.

Sighing, Tim pressed the button. "Tony," he said, his voice flat and emotionless. "What do you want at 5am on a Saturday? Lose your keys down your date's dress again?"

"Hey, that only happened once, McGee, and boy, the search was worth it!"

"So what is it then?"

"Get dressed. I'll be outside your place in ten minutes."

"Tony, it's Saturday."

"Nine minutes, McGee, and dress casual." The connection was broken and Tim lay there looking at the phone for a few seconds. All he wanted to do was curl back up under the bedclothes and pretend that the whole of the last week hadn't happened...that he hadn't fired upon an undercover cop...that he hadn't killed a man whose only crime had been being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But with Tony going to be showing up at his door in, Tim checked his watch, eight minutes, retreating back under the bedclothes was not an option. DiNozzo was just as likely to pick the lock again and start insulting his living quarters, and somehow Tim just didn't feel up to it...not today...and maybe not ever.

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Seven minutes later, Tim was outside his apartment block, shivering slightly in the pre-dawn chill. " He pulled his jacket closer around him wondering just what case it was that had necessitated them coming in to work so early. "Must be pretty urgent," he thought, "Especially if they're scraping the bottom of the barrel and calling me in." 

The beep of a horn alerted him to Tony's imminent arrival. Tim barely had time to fasten his seat belt before Tony took off. 

"You look like crap, McGee," was Tony's first comment. 

"Good morning to you too, Tony," snapped Tim.

"Hey, take it easy there, kiddo," Tony glanced sideways at McGee as he drove. "You been sleeping all right?"

Tim shifted uneasily in his seat. Tony always seemed to have this unerring ability to read him like a book. And while his interrogation skills might not be as good as Gibbs, he was persistent enough to not stop until he got his answers. "It's a lot easier to sleep when people don't keep phoning you."

"Try and catch some shut eye now," advised Tony. "There's plenty of time, and you'll probably need it."

Tim eyed him suspiciously. "We're only twenty minutes from NCIS...fifteen the way you drive..."

"Oh, did I say we were heading for the office? My bad."

Tim waited, but Tony didn't continue, so eventually he asked, "So where are we heading?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Tony looked up and saw Gibbs walking through the office with a face like thunder. He knew what it had to be about. Standard NCIS policy after a fatal shooting, no matter what the circumstances, was that the agent in question had to be recertified on the firing range before they'd be reissued with their weapon. It was usually just a formality...you showed up, fired off a few rounds, and so long as your percentages were reasonable enough you got your gun back. Easy peasy, no problem. All an agent needed to do was to be able to get back on their horse and keep going. But for some agents, that proved more difficult than for others.

Tony had asked Martin, the firing range supervisor, to let him know when McGee had completed his recertification. He'd been planning on showing up to the kid's place with pizza to celebrate...but so far, the celebration had had to be put on hold. Tony didn't mind, he was a patient guy, but it was obvious from the look on Gibbs's face that his patience had run out. Martin had given Tony a heads up a few minutes earlier. "DiNozzo, better watch your step. Gibbs was down here earlier, checking up on your Probie, and he wasn't too happy to find he hadn't shown up yet."

Tony somehow hadn't been all that surprised. He knew that the shooting was weighing on McGee's mind, and he'd been doing his best to ease things for him. But something drastic was going to have to be done, and soon, if McGee was to have a future as an agent.

"Boss," called Tony, grabbing a random file from his desk and moving to intercept Gibbs before he could reach McGee's desk. "I got a cold case here, there's some evidence I need you to take a look at." He could see Gibbs's mouth open to say something and he quickly continued, "It's really important, Boss." He mouthed, "Please" to Gibbs, and almost imperceptibly, jerked his head towards the elevator.

"Okay," growled Gibbs, and turned towards the elevators.

Inside his 'conference room', Gibbs waited until the car had slown to a stop before he turned to Tony, "This had better be good, DiNozzo."

"It's about McGee," said Tony, quickly. "I know you're going to give him a hard time about the firing range."

"Ya think? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't give him a hard time? If he wants to be a special agent, he has to be prepared to use his weapon. If he can't pull his gun when needed, then there's no place for him in the field."

"I know, Boss, I know. I just...I don't think that having you yell at him is going to fix things."

"Do you have a better idea?" Gibbs voice was calm and even, but Tony knew that he wasn't happy.

"I...Boss, just let me handle it, okay? I know McGee; I know what makes him tick. Let me try and sort him out. Just give me some time."

"You have the weekend, Tony. I'm taking McGee down to the firing range on Monday, and if he can't get himself recertified then...he's off the team."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"A firing range," Tim looked at Tony in disbelief. "Why the hell are you taking me to a firing range?"

"Why do you think, Tim?" Tony's voice was gentle but firm.

"No, NO, I won't do it Tony." Tim's fists were clenched, "Stop the car or turn around. I'm not doing it."

Tony pulled over the car, grabbing Tim by the arm, as the younger man was about to reach for the door. "Tim," he said, looking him in the eyes. "Do you want to be an NCIS special agent?"

Tim swallowed hard, "Yes...no...I don't know, Tony...I just know that I don't think I can ever trust myself to fire a gun again."

"That's what today is for. Tim, even if you never fire your weapon in anger again. Even if you quit NCIS tomorrow and go to work for some fancy computer company. If that's what you want, then that's up to you. But I don't want you making that decision because you feel you don't have a choice. Let me help you Tim. Spend the day with me at my friend's firing range. Get back your confidence and your aim and pass your recertification on Monday. And then if you still can't face being in the field...well that'll be your choice, not something that was forced upon you. Will you at least try?"

Tim was silent for a few minutes before he replied, "Do I really have a choice?"

The grin was back on Tony's face as he replied, "Not really, no. I've booked the range and put down the deposit, and I'm damned if I'm gonna waste it."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

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to be continued 


	2. Chapter 2

Title:Brothers in Arms 2?  
Author: Ceindreadh Email: Website: n/a Permission to archive: Yes to WWOMB, anybody else, please ask first.  
Fandom(s): NCIS Genre (general, hetero or slash) Gen Pairing/Characters: Tony/Tim Rating: FRT 13 Summary: Tim needs to deal with the aftermath of Probie Warnings: spoilers for Probie Disclaimer. I don't own the NCIS characters, I'm only borrowing them, and I promise to return them in minty fresh condition when I'm finished.  
Notes: Thanks to FatCat for her title suggestions. Also thanks to Lynda and MJM from the specialops chats for advice regarding guns and guns handling (even if I didn't use as much of it as I thought I would)

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Tony glanced over at Tim as he drove. In spite of his assurances to Gibbs, he was beginning to have doubts about his plan to get Tim recertified. Oh he was sure that after a day with him on the firing range, Tim would be able to shoot the required numbers to get passed by Martin, but it was one thing to be able to shoot at a paper target, it was a whole other deal to have the confidence to draw your weapon in the field. An agent in the field had to be prepared to draw and use their weapon at any time. Otherwise they might as well paint a target on their back, and that of their teammates. 

Tony shifted uneasily in his seat as he drove. Gibbs had told him about Tim's reactions when they'd confronted Archer. If Gibbs hadn't been so quick off the mark, he could have been killed, Tim could have been killed, Archer would have gotten away with murder and Tim's name and reputation would have been forever blackened. Tony trusted Tim. He liked him. He'd rather have him on his team than any other agent in the building, bar Gibbs of course, but he was realistic enough to know that if Tim wasn't able to handle a gun then he'd be a liability that they couldn't afford. He pushed that thought away. Today was going to work, it had to...there was no way in hell that Tony was going to lose another teammate. 

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Several hours later, Tony was less confident about his plan It had started out well enough. He'd taken Tim through the basics of gun usage, supervised him loading the gun, and then watched him squeeze off a few rounds at a paper target. It hadn't taken a trained investigator to notice that Tim's confidence had been totally shattered. He'd handled the gun as if it was a snake about to bite him, and his scores had been lower than Tony had ever seen them.

"Okay, kiddo," said Tony, when he'd examined the target. "Looks like we're going to have to start from scratch. Reload and we'll try again. A few hours of practice and we'll get you a passing score."

"What's the point?" asked Tim, gloomily. "Even if I manage to get recertified on Monday, what's the point? I nearly got Gibbs killed because I couldn't bring myself to draw my weapon. What happens the next time I'm supposed to be backing somebody up and I can't do it? I should just hand in my resignation now before I get one of you killed."

"No!" snapped Tony, more harshly than he had intended. "Dammit Tim, you're not a quitter. I've seen you stay up all night to work out a problem that nobody else could fix. But if you give up on this, without even trying..." He could see how upset Tim was looking and sighed heavily, "Please Tim. I know what it's like to lose your nerve. I know that you're looking at your gun and remembering how it felt to see a man on the ground and know that it was your gun that put him there."

"Do you know what it's like to shoot an innocent man?" Tim's voice was shaking. "Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is his face in the instant before I pulled the trigger. I know even if I hadn't been there, even if I'd missed totally, that Archer would have just finished him off. I know that Gibbs said I made the right call based on what I knew at the time...I know that he or you would probably have made the same call...but that doesn't change the fact that it was the wrong call, and every time I think about using my gun, all I can think of is that I might kill somebody else. Tony, I can't do this. When Archer had his gun on Gibbs and I knew that he was going to shoot him...I knew that pulling my gun and shooting first was the right thing to do...and I just couldn't do it, because I was afraid that it'd be a mistake, that'd I'd shoot another innocent man." Tim was breathing heavily by the time he'd finished his speech. "Tony, I appreciate all you've done for me...all you're trying to do...but it's just a waste of time, I'm just wasting your time." He dropped his gaze and turned away. "I'll pay you whatever it cost to set this up Tony, I'm sorry." He started walking away.

"Hey, McGee, Tim." Tony caught up with Tim and grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him round. "Okay, maybe I don't know what it's like to shoot somebody who didn't deserve it...but I do know what it's like to second guess myself, to look down at a person I've shot and wonder if I could have done something else besides pulling the trigger. And I know what it's like to have a little voice in my head telling me that I made the wrong call and that I shouldn't be trusted with a gun in my hand." He put an arm around Tim's shoulder, gently turning the younger agent back towards the firing range. "And I know that the only way I was able to shut those voices up was by getting back out there with my gun and proving to myself that I could pull the trigger. Tim, I don't want you to decide someday that a single bullet is the only way for you to silence the voices."

Tim sucked in his breath sharply. "I wasn't...I...how..."

"It's okay kid," said Tony, patting him gently on the back. "You wouldn't be the first. I know that working out on a firing range isn't the same as being in the field, but it's the best we can do for now. And while I can't promise you that the next time you're in the field you'll find it any easier to fire your weapon, I can at least try and make sure that when you do fire it then you'll hit what you're aiming at."

Tony gave Tim a few seconds to compose himself before leading him back to the gun table. "Come on kid, let's give it another go. Hey, you didn't happen to bring your manuscript with you?"

Tim looked at Tony suspiciously, "No, of course not, why?"

"Ah, just a little trick I picked up from Gibbs, never mind. Now, get that gun loaded."

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to be continued 


	3. Chapter 3

Title:Brothers in Arms 3/4 Author: Ceindreadh Email: Website: n/a Permission to archive: Yes to WWOMB, anybody else, please ask first.  
Fandom(s): NCIS Genre (general, hetero or slash) Gen Pairing/Characters: Tony/Tim Rating: FRT 13 Summary: Tim needs to deal with the aftermath of Probie Warnings: spoilers for Probie Disclaimer. I don't own the NCIS characters, I'm only borrowing them, and I promise to return them in minty fresh condition when I'm finished.  
Notes: Thanks to FatCat for her title suggestions. Also thanks to Lynda and MJM from the specialops chats for advice regarding guns and guns handling (even if I didn't use as much of it as I thought I would)

-  
Previously on NCIS. Tony took Tim to a firing range to help him get his confidence back before he was due to be recertified for fieldwork.

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Tony gave Tim a few seconds to compose himself before leading him back to the gun table. "Come on kid, let's give it another go. Hey, you didn't happen to bring your manuscript with you?"

Tim looked at Tony suspiciously, "No, of course not, why?"

"Ah, just a little trick I picked up from Gibbs, never mind. Now, get that gun loaded."

-  
Part 03

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It had been a long day thought Tony as he drove back to the city. And not entirely as successful as he had hoped. Okay, he had managed to get McGee's target scores up to what would be a more than passing grade if he could reproduce them on Monday. And at least his hands weren't shaking when he picked up his weapon any more. But Tony knew that it was one thing to be able to fire a weapon at a paper target on a firing range. Once you were out in the field and firing at targets that not only didn't stand there waiting for you to aim but also started firing back, well that was a whole different ball game. 

Tony had done his best. His friend Danny who owned the firing range had had one of those target alley's set up. It wasn't anything fancy; just some cardboard cutouts that swung into view at random intervals. The trick was to hit only the 'bad' targets and to try and avoid shooting the 'good' ones. Of course in the split second when a target appeared, it wasn't always easy to judge whether it was a 'good' or 'bad' one. So Tony had cheated a bit. He'd had Danny change the settings to make the targets swing into view just a little slower than usual so that Tim would have that much more time to decide whether to shoot or not. It was for his own good, Tony had told himself. This was about getting Tim's confidence back. Once that was sorted out they could work on his reaction times.

It had seemed to be working. Tim had made his way down the fake street, firing at every target that came into view. He hadn't hit all of them of course, but he hadn't fired on any 'good' guys either.

And then came the last target, a man holding up a badge...and that was when Tim froze completely.

Tony cursed himself for not having Danny remove that particular target. It had taken another long session on the standard firing range before Tim had agreed to try the target alley again. It was only when it had gotten too dark to shoot safely that Tony called a halt to the proceedings.

"We'll come back again tomorrow, okay Tim? You've got the hang of it," he added reassuringly, "All you need is more practice. You need to feel as if your gun is a part of you, as natural a tool to use as a knife and fork."

"Yeah, whatever," said Tim, quietly as he unloaded the gun and held it out to Tony.

"Nu-uh, McGee," said Tony. "You're gonna hang on to that gun for now. I want you to wear it 24/7 until you pass your test on Monday. You're going to eat with it, sleep with it under your pillow. That gun is going to be your best friend."

Tim looked at him suspiciously, "You want me to sleep with a gun?"

"Well you don't have to hold on to it all night like Ziva does," Tony shuddered involuntarily before continuing, "But it should be within easy reach of you at all times"  
He took the gun from McGee's hands, "And it should be loaded. An unloaded gun is just a paperweight. Worse, cause people don't shoot at you for carrying a paperweight...unless it's one of those real ugly type ones, or one that looks like a gun."

He could see Tim looking at him skeptically. "Look, it's like driving a car. You don't think about signals or lights or anything, you want to make a right turn, you just do it."

"Tony, I crashed the first car I ever owned."

"Okay, okay, bad analogy."

--------------------------

Tony glanced over at Tim as he drove. The younger agent was even quieter than he had been on the outward journey. While Tony didn't usually mind the sound of his own voice, he was wishing that McGee would say something, anything. But instead McGee was just staring out the window, his hands rubbing involuntarily at the blisters he'd made from pulling the trigger so often over the past few hours.

Finally Tony couldn't stand it any longer. He swerved quickly and pulled into the parking lot of a service station. 

McGee looked up at him in surprise.

"We need gas, and I need food," announced Tony. "You want coffee or anything else?"

Tim shook his head slowly. "I'll just use the restroom." He pulled on the door handle.

"Hey kid," Tony put his hand on McGee's shoulder. "I don't care what you say, Tim. I know that you can be a good field agent. That's why I've been pushing you so hard today. Heck, Gibbs's knows it too, otherwise he wouldn't be pushing you to get recertified."

Tim looked Tony in the eye, "Did it ever occur to you that maybe Gibbs could be wrong?"

Tony shook his head, "Gibbs is never wrong...okay, maybe he's screwed up a few times in his personal life, but when it comes to the job, he doesn't make mistakes."

"He didn't kill Ari when he had the chance." Tim was out of the car and the door shut before Tony had a chance to respond.

------------------------------

Tony filled up the gas tank and headed into the shop to pay. "Hey there," he called to the man behind the counter. "Pump number five, I'm just gonna get some coffee's as well." Even as he was speaking, Tony could sense that something was, to use Abby's phrase, 'a little hinky'. There was a chick standing to one side of the counter, a pretty enough young thing, but looking scared...very very scared. Tony could see that the cash register was open and the service station owner was looking equally as scared at the girl. Both of them were looking towards Tony as if he were a rattlesnake about to pounce, but then Tony sensed rather than heard a movement behind him.

He whirled around instantly, bringing his gun to bear on the man standing in the aisle behind him. "Federal Agent," said Tony, "Keep your hands where I can see them."

Tony could see a gun sticking out of the guy's waistband, "Trust me kid, you'll never make it. And if I have to shoot you then there'll be all kinds of reports to fill in and that'd really spoil what's left of my weekend. So just put your hands in the air, nice and slow." 

The kid obeyed as Tony ordered him to kneel on the ground. He stepped over to him, keeping an eye out for any movement in the store, but it looked like there were just the four of them. Tony quickly searched the kid, removing the gun from the kid's waistband and slotting on the safety catch before tucking it into his own pocket. 

Straightening up, Tony backed away from the guy on the ground, keeping him covered. "I think it's time we called in the cops to deal with this dirt bag," he said. "Sir, do you have a phone?" He turned a fraction to glance at the storeowner, only to yelp in pain as a glass bottle smashed into the side of his head. 

Blood mingled with wine and poured down the side of Tony's face as he slumped to the ground. The last thing he saw before he passed out was the so-called 'scared girl', the remains of the wine bottle in her hand, reaching down to pick up the gun from his suddenly nerveless fingers.

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To be continued

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Notes - If the hold up scene seems a little familiar, yes I was just a little inspired by a similar scene in MH's final appearance on the West Wing. 


	4. Chapter 4

Title:Brothers in Arms 4/4 Author: Ceindreadh Email: Website: n/a Permission to archive: Yes to WWOMB, anybody else, please ask first.  
Fandom(s): NCIS Genre (general, hetero or slash) Gen Pairing/Characters: Tony/Tim Rating: FRT 13 Summary: Tim needs to deal with the aftermath of Probie Warnings: spoilers for Probie Disclaimer. I don't own the NCIS characters, I'm only borrowing them, and I promise to return them in minty fresh condition when I'm finished.  
Notes: Thanks to FatCat for her title suggestions. Also thanks to Lynda and MJM from the specialops chats for advice regarding guns and guns handling (even if I didn't use as much of it as I thought I would)

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Previously on NCIS - Tony took Tim to a firing range to help boost his confidence. On the way home, they stopped for gas and Tony walked straight into the middle of a hold-up.

-------------------

Straightening up, Tony backed away from the guy on the ground, keeping him covered. "I think it's time we called in the cops to deal with this dirt bag," he said. "Sir, do you have a phone?" He turned a fraction to glance at the storeowner, only to yelp in pain as a glass bottle smashed into the side of his head. 

Blood mingled with wine and poured down the side of Tony's face as he slumped to the ground. The last thing he saw before he passed out was the so-called 'scared girl', the remains of the wine bottle in her hand, reaching down to pick up the gun from his suddenly nerveless fingers.

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Part 04

Tim splashed some water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror.

"NCIS Special Agent, Tim McGee," he said out loud before laughing hollowly. "What a joke." He dried himself with some paper towels, his mind made up as to what his next course of action needed to be. He'd apologize to Tony for wasting his time this weekend, and first thing Monday morning, his resignation would be on Gibbs's desk. It would be the best thing for all concerned. Tony and Ziva wouldn't have to worry about being backed up by a Probie who couldn't fire his gun...Gibbs wouldn't have to worry about a member of his team killing another innocent person...and he...he wouldn't have to point a gun at another human being ever again.

The decision made, Tim felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. True, there was a twinge of guilt left there, a sense that he'd be letting down Gibbs, who had shown enough faith in him to bring him onto the team in the first place...that he'd be letting down Tony, who had done so much to train him and was doing his best to help him past this hurdle. Abby and Ducky, Ziva, even Jimmy, they'd all been supportive of him in their own way when he'd needed them, and it'd be a wrench having to say goodbye to his friends. "It's for the best," Tim told himself as he headed back towards the car. "They'll be better off without me." His hand brushed against the gun at his hip. Tony had been right, the gun did feel like a part of him, but it was a part that Tim would gladly have amputated.

As he neared the car, Tim glanced over at the store, freezing in horror as he saw Tony - his weapon trained on a kneeling man - and completely unaware of the young woman behind him who grabbed a bottle from the counter and swung it at his unprotected head.

Tim didn't even stop to think. The gun was in his hand, even as he ran to the door, slamming it open and yelling, "Federal Agent, don't move!"

Time seemed to slow down as Tim took in his surroundings. Tony was lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. Blood was streaming down the side of his face, but Tim could see that he appeared to be breathing. Standing over Tony's prone figure and holding what looked like his gun, was the woman Tim had seen hitting Tony. Up close, she was younger than Tim had first thought, probably still in her teens. Her hands were shaking as she clutched the gun, which was now pointed in Tim's direction.  
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a young man on his knees, the same man that Tony had been covering, and therefore not to be trusted.

"Drop the gun," ordered Tim, trying not to think about what he'd have to do if she didn't obey. He wasn't sure if he could shoot a woman, even one who had a gun pointed at him.

"I...I..." the girl stammered.

"Just shoot him, Janine you stupid bitch!" This came from the kneeling man.

"Troy, he's a Fed...I can't!"

"So was the other guy, didn't stop you killing him!"

"It was an accident..." Tears were starting to run down her face. "I didn't mean to kill him, I just wanted to stop him shooting Troy."

Her hands were shaking wildly now, and Tim knew that she could easily pull the trigger by accident if she wasn't careful. "Janine," he said, soothingly. "I'm sure it was an accident. You didn't mean to hurt my friend." He took a step closer to her. "I'm sure you never wanted to get involved in this robbery in the first place, right?" 

Janine nodded her head slowly even as she took a few steps back. "It was Troy...it was his idea. I...I just wanted to get something to drink, but he said he didn't have any cash...I just want to go home..."

"Bitch," snapped Troy. "Doesn't matter whose idea it was. You went along with it, so you're just as guilty as me. And I'm not the one who's just killed a cop. You might as well kill this one too, they can't fry you more than once."

"Don't listen to him, Janine," said Tim, as calmly as he could, even though his heart was pounding. "So far, nothing you have done is irretrievable. My partner isn't dead...you haven't stolen anything...yet. If you put down the gun and let me call an ambulance for him then I'm sure he'll be all right. Help me to help him, and that'll count a lot in your favor...just put the gun down and step away and we can sort all this out. I promise you, this can all be worked out...but you have to let me help you...you have to put down the gun. 

Tim could see that she was wavering and he took a step forward, knowing that if he'd misjudged things and she did pull the trigger, then he'd be a dead man, with Tony soon after.

"I know that you're scared," he said softly. "I know that you're afraid that you've done something so bad...so terrible that the rest of your life is going to be marked by it forever. And if you shoot me, then that'll be true. But it doesn't have to end like that. All you have to do is put down the gun." Tim took another step towards her and reached out his hand.

Janine burst into tears, the gun falling from her hand as she collapsed to her knees sobbing loudly. 

"It's okay, Janine," said Tim, relaxing slightly, "It's going to be all right."

"Bitch," snarled Troy, "I'll kill you!" 

Things seemed to happen in slow motion as Troy lunged for the fallen gun. Tim grabbed Janine, pushing her out of Troy's line of vision, before turning and bringing his weapon to bear, his computer like mind already calculating vectors and speeds and just knowing that Troy would be able to get a shot off first.

A shot rang out.

"Nobody calls my partner a bitch," said Tony. He was still prone on the ground, but it hadn't affected his aim as he neatly put a round through Troy's ankle with his own gun.

----------------------------

An hour or so later, the police had arrived and were taking statements from all concerned. Tim had given a full report to the officer in charge, leaving him in no doubt about his opinion that Troy had been the leader and Janine an unwilling accomplice. He didn't know if it would make a difference, but he'd promised Janine, and while he'd have said anything to get Tony and himself out of trouble, Tim still felt he owed it to the girl to try.

Troy had been carted off in an ambulance, alternately cursing and screaming and blaming everybody bar himself for his downfall.

Tony had also been examined by the paramedics and now he sat on the steps outside the store, a large bandage covering the side of his face and looking a little paler than usual

"Hey Probie," said Tony when he noticed Tim coming over. "How're you doing?"

Tim sat down beside Tony. "I'm sorry Tony...I know I should have handled things differently." He jumped as Tony swatted him on the head.

"Now what have I told you about second guessing yourself, Probie?" said Tony. "You managed to talk down a gun toting criminal without getting yourself or any other innocent party hurt. That's a good result in anybody's book, kid, and don't you forget it." He was silent for a few seconds before continuing, "To tell the truth, if our positions had been reversed...if I'd seen somebody pointing a gun at you, chick or no chick, I'd have shot her...no second chances, no talking...but in this situation, a scared kid like that...it'd have been a 'good' shoot...but the wrong call to make. The thing about this job Tim, it's not always the right thing to shoot first in a given situation...but sometimes it's necessary. A good agent is one who can tell when it is the right thing." Tony punched Tim lightly on the shoulder, "And that's why you'll make a good agent."

There was silence between them for a while before Tony continued, "Anyway, you'd better get going." He pulled his car keys out of his pocket. "Betty, that cute paramedic insists that I get checked out in the ER before I drive anywhere. Personally I just think she's using it as an excuse to get me inside her ambulance, but who am I to argue with a pretty lady." He held the keys out to Tom, "I warn you, if you get a single scratch on my car when you're driving back to the city, I will smack you silly, tell Gibbs you spilled his coffee, and tell Abby that you were the one who sat on Bert and broke him."

"But Bert isn't broken?"

"No, but he will be if you damage my car!"

Tim took the keys, "You're sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine kid, a few stitches and a bit of rest and I'll be good as new. Heck, I'll probably only have a small scar, maybe one just big enough to act as a chick magnet until it fades."

----------------------

Twenty years later, Tony's scar had indeed faded and was only really noticeable when he made a point of showing it off to people while telling them the story of its origins. Tim had noticed that Tony's contribution to the incident seemed to grow in direct proportion to the prettiness of the lady he was telling the tale to, but he didn't mind not getting his fair share of the credit. After all, Tony had done enough over the years to deserve his moment in the spotlight. The drawerful of medals that Tony had accumulated in his own right over the last twenty years, was more than testament to that fact. 

A shadow loomed over Tim as he at his lunch in his favorite restaurant.  
Looking up he saw Tony who smiled as he said, "Hey Probie, mind if you join you?" Without waiting for an answer, he hooked a chair with his foot and lowered himself into it.

"How often do I have to tell you, Tony," said Tim, with mock severity in his voice, "That's Director Probie to you, DiNozzo!"

Tony laughed as he grabbed a handful of fries off Tim's plate. "You know, I'm not sure I'll ever get used to you being the NCIS Director. To me, you'll still be the wet behind the ears Probie who showed up on our doorstep one day and we didn't have the heart to turn away." He grinned to show there was no ill will behind the comment and then crammed the fries into his mouth.

"I wouldn't have made it if it hadn't been for you," said Tim, soberly. "It should be you sitting in the Director's chair, you've got so much more experience..."

"Don't make me smack you again, kiddo. I'd be totally useless at the job. I'm a field agent; I couldn't deal with all the paperwork. Heck, there's only one person that'd be worse than me in the job, and that'd be Gibbs!"

Tim laughed along with Tony. Gibbs had in fact been put up for the post of Director many many years ago after his bad knee had finally enforced his retirement from active duty. He had lasted less than a month before steps had been taken to remove him from his position before he pissed off the directors of every single agency in the US intelligence community. Gibbs had then taken a position as head of training NCIS agents, with special responsibility for firearms. There had been an amazing increase in firearms accuracy of the agents that passed through his special training program. There had also been a sizeable increase in the numbers of caps and PDA's requisitioned by those agents as well.

"Anyway," continued Tony, "I always knew that you had it in you Tim."

"Even when I didn't believe in myself," said Tim, quietly.

"That's what partners...and friends are for."

-----------------------

The End 


End file.
